


Skye Full of Stars

by Agent17



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Families, Kid Fic, Kid Skye | Daisy Johnson, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-02-04 10:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent17/pseuds/Agent17
Summary: Phil Coulson just wanted a quiet life, one where Skye was happy and nothing went wrong. He didn't plan to fall for the hot archer that worked at his local coffee shop, but sometimes the best things are unplanned. Now if he could just keep the rest of his life from falling apart, maybe he could actually enjoy being in love for once.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the story that has been slowly forming over several years. These two keep popping up to remind me that I need to finish their tale. Chapters will likely be slow going up, but rest assured that it is fully plotted out and will be completed. Tags will change as more characters appear. Please let me know if anything needs to be tagged these wasn't. Enjoy!

The bell over the shop door of Mockingbird Books always made a cheerful little tinkling noise whenever someone entered the store. It was like a happy voice saying “Welcome!” to the customer and “Look! We have business!” to the employee. Natasha hated that bell.

It was her frequent desire to murder it, if one was able to murder an inanimate object. She hated how happy it was, like it was mocking her. It rarely brought her good sales. She somehow seemed to always get the stupid ones, whom asked for impossible things and wanted to argue that they must have it, even after she had checked the inventory list (twice) for them. Her explanations that this was only a small bookshop, carrying used books at that, and had only so much room always fell on deaf ears. Even when she went on to state that the book they were looking for was rare (Every. Single. Time.) and very few existed, they still acted like she was lying to them. Still, she stuck to her spiel, gave them a list of other possible stores to check out (because she and Bobbi both like to share the joy), and sent them on their way. Most never seemed to realize that she cursed them out in her head as she wished them good luck and happy hunting.

So it was that she found herself caught up in an argument with a customer over a novel when the bell cheerily announced the next customer (god, she was going to rip it down one of these days, just wait, Bobbi be damned). She spared a second to glance up and smile at the middle aged man that had entered, noting his heavy wool coat (in a sensible black color, in her “humble” opinion, not that the weather warranted a coat that heavy, she thought) and (here's where she shuddered) a small child held in his arms, carrying a soda cup.

“Pardon me just a moment,” she said, interrupting the customer at the counter. “I'm sorry, sir, but we don't allow food or drinks in here.”

“I'm so sorry. Would it be possible to leave it at the counter for now? If not, we can get rid of it.”

Natasha blinked in surprise, having been fully prepared for another fight. “No, that's fine. I can keep it back here for you.”

“Thank you so much,” the man said, taking the cup from the girl's hands and giving it to Natasha. “I thought we'd be finished with it by now.”

“I was saving it for later,” the little girl said, arms crossed over her purple coat, frowning slightly from under her pink knit cap.

“And you can have it back after you finish shopping,” Natasha said.

“Thank you,” the man murmured, moving off into the store.

“Excuse me! I'm still waiting! This is not the kind of service I expected from an establishment like this!”

“Ma'am, I'm sorry. But I've already explained several times that we don't carry that book. I've even shown you our inventory list.”

“You'll be getting a bad review online for this. You've been nothing but rude and disrespectful since I got here!” With that, the woman flounced her way out of the store, happy little tinkling noises following her. Gritting her teeth, Natasha turned back to the stack of books she was prepping for shipping piled on the back counter, checking their numbers against her inventory list. She had reached the point of merely seething when the man returned to the counter with a small armful of books, daughter still perched on his right arm. Natasha reached out and grabbed the books before he dropped them.

“Thank you,” he said, sounding sincere. “And I'm sorry to bother you, but do you happen to have any books on Soviet era tanks?”

“If we do, they would most likely be in our history section. Unfortunately, without a title or an author, I can't really look it up.”

“Oh, I already checked. You have so many, it was a little overwhelming. If I had more time I'd stay a little longer. Maybe if I brought in a list of what I'm looking for, you could help me?”

“If you know the title and/or the author, I can try to help you. I promise nothing,” she said as she wrote up his sales slip.

“Thank you. This store is amazing, isn't it, Skye?”

“Um hmm!” the little girl hummed, nodding her head. “You have a lot of kids books. I like that!”

“Do you get a lot of customers like that?” the man asked.

“More than I'd like to admit,” Natasha muttered, accepting the cash he offered.

“I'm sorry to hear that. This store is wonderful. I'm really impressed with your history section. Do you get a lot of new titles coming in?”

“We get new ones on a fairly regular basis, seeing as we're near three different schools. Interested? We could put you on a call list if something interesting comes in.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes lighting up. “I'd like that.”

She passed him a paper and a pen, noting as he scribbled a name (Phil Coulson) and a cell number.

“Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

“No problem, Phil. Just don't expect to hear from us right away. We only buy books on Tuesdays and Thursday mornings.”

“Not a problem,” he said, gathering up his books and smiling as she handed the drink back to Skye. “Thank you again, and have a great day.”

Skye waved goodbye over his shoulder as they exited, bell tinkling happily away. Maybe it wasn't such a bad sound after all. (It really was, as the rest of the afternoon proved.)

 

~~~

 

Clint's temporary job at a coffee shop down the street from Mockingbird Books had lasted longer than he liked to admit. He worked his butt off, running around cleaning tables, wiping down counters and chairs, sweeping the floor, cleaning the restrooms (and he didn't even want to think about what went on in there, considering some of their customers), and occasionally getting to help with actually making the coffee (which he was really very good at), all for only a couple of dollars over minimum wage and a slim chance at a percentage of the days tips. By the end of the day he was exhausted and ready to collapse. Once a week, usually on Wednesdays, he met up with Natasha, Sam, and Steve for drinks at Hunter's, a local bar owned by a friend of theirs. It was their way to unwind and commiserate over the quality of people they encountered on a daily basis.

“How are things at the VA, Sam?” Clint asked as he sat down.

“Pretty shitty, man, I gotta tell ya. Politicians promise everything, and then give us nothing. Patients get mad when we can't help them immediately, their families get mad when we tell them that they need to take an active roll in their health care. I don't know. Sometimes I hate it.”

“No you don't,” Natasha said, settling back with her vodka.

“No I don't,” he agreed. “Doesn't mean I don't want to scream most days.” Natasha saluted him with her glass.

“Where's Steve? Isn't he usually here by now?” Clint asked, sipping his beer.

“He said he was going to try and convince Bucky to come tonight.”

“How's he been doing?”

“Better, though he still has a lot of bad days. I heard them fighting again last week. I told Steve he needs time on his own, but they both freak out and hyperventilate every time I suggest it.”

“Idiots.” Natasha smirked, waving as she caught sight of the aforementioned idiots wandering in. Steve got a beer and Bucky an iced tea (“Because soda is disgusting and I don't feel like attempting alcohol right now.”) before they settled into the booth.

“So, who wants to go first?” Steve asked, looking around the group afters everyone greeted each other.

“Bucky should start, since he's hardly ever here,” Natasha said, smiling sarcastically as he flipped her off.

“Fine. I had a shitty week at work, probably going to be fired for calling my boss a homophobic asshole, had a rougher time in therapy, for which I hate Sam—”

“Love you too, darling,” he said blowing him a kiss.

“—and had my first meeting for a new prosthetic this morning. Next, I volunteer Clint.”

“Jerk,” Clint muttered, gulping his beer before saying, “people who want their coffee in a timely manner need to remember that baristas are people too, that we do have feelings, and that we can't help it if their coffee gets cold because they're spending too much time on their phones to notice when we call their names. Also, tips. Tips are great. We encourage tips.”

“Here, here!” Lance Hunter said as he brought their next rounds. “I expect at least thirty percent for tonight's stellar service.”

“Quit watering down my gin and we'll talk,” Sam said.

Lance walked away, muttering around his breath about “bloody arseholes”, as the rest of the table laughed.

“Steve,” Clint said, saluting him with his bottle.

“P.T.'s been OK this week. Only had two patients decide to not do their stretches at home instead of the usual nine. Had one new client that might be a problem, though.”

“How so?” Nat asked.

“She keeps hitting on Steve. Lots of inappropriate touching,” Bucky said, smirking.

“Bucky, she's like ninety. She doesn't know what she's doing.”

“Oh, she knows,” Sam said, grinning evilly. “No one can resist the ass and abs, man.”

They all broke out into loud laughter at the embarrassed flush the spread across Steve's face.

“OK, OK, my turn,” Sam said, getting things under control first. “OK, nothing new to report on my end, other than Sheila gossiping about Mary again, then forgetting to check that her headphones were plugged into her phone so everyone in the office got to hear her choice of lunchtime programming.”

“Which was?” Bucky prompted.

“A really lousy porno.”

That got more laughter out of the group before they all turned to Nat.

“OK, so Barbie-girl came in twice this week.”

“Barbie-girl?” Bucky asked, confused.

“Older woman that's had some pretty bad plastic surgery done. Her face looks like plastic and never moves or stretches, even when she talks. Like, ever.”

“Creepy and disgusting.”

“Tell me about it. She comes in at least once a week, to ask for completely ridiculous things, always getting the title or the author wrong, and then never admitting she's wrong, even when we have what she was actually looking for.”

“So what does she do?” Bucky asked, fascinated. He rarely came to their bar nights, so these stories were all new for him.

“She buys it anyway, and then comes back the next week to tell me that she's appalled at how stupid I can be, only in a lot longer and more roundabout way.” She sipped her vodka before continuing. “So this week, she comes in twice, once for a cook book that she wants to give as a gift, then to come ask about a novel that's never existed, but that she insists that she owned once. Another customer called bullshit on that last statement and I thought they were going to come to blows over it. Best day of my life.” She leaned back and smiled as they started laughing. “Oh, and we got a new customer who might become a regular. Think he might be just your type, Clint,” she said, smiling maliciously at him.

Groaning, Clint leaned back. “I'll bite. How so? Is he short and dumpy, with nose hair and a lazy eye? Only reads bad romance novels and believes that Elvis and the Easter Bunny live together underneath Graceland?”

“That pretty elaborate,” Bucky said.

“It's what his last date was like,” Steve said, repressing a shudder. “I was there, the guy was creepy as all fuck.”

“No, actually, he's about your height, brown hair, greenish eyes, late thirties to early forties, a history buff that's genuinely polite. Oh, and he has a daughter, but no ring or tan lines.”

Clint groaned again. “Shit, he sounds perfect. Still, he might be divorced. A kid means he's probably straight.”

“He bought a book on male nude photography. Pretty sure I'm not reading this wrong.”

“Gimme his number!” Clint cried, leaning into her space. Bucky snorted into his drink, watching as Nat hit Clint on the shoulder.

“That would be unethical. But come cover my lunch sometime and see if he comes in. It's been three weeks and he always seems to come in in the afternoons on Tuesdays and some Thursdays now.”

“Fuck, I think I will,” Clint said, chewing on his lip. Laughing, the rest fell into an easy banter, finishing up and leaving after an hour. As always, they tipped Lance generously on their way out.

 

~~~

 

By Wednesday night, Phil was exhausted. Nights were always hard, especially when Skye had her nightmares. She had been doing well for a while, only waking up once or twice a week, and usually going back to sleep fairly quickly. This week, however, had been bad. Every night since Saturday, she had woken up screaming. Usually he would sit with and hold her until she calmed down and went back to sleep; that had worked on Saturday and Sunday, though Monday had found him having to perch on the side of her bed, holding her hand as she slept, and Tuesday they didn't sleep at all. They were both extremely tired by Wednesday morning when Phil dropped her off at school. Since he only had an hour to kill before his classes started, he wandered the neighborhood until he came to a coffee shop near the bookstore they frequented. Sniffing the heavenly scented air, he went in, noting the comfortable chairs scattered around an eclectic mix of tables, half full of working students and businessmen. Ordering a latte, he went and settled into the back corner, pulling out his laptop.

The article he was working on was boring, even to him, but the magazine paid well. It was currently his primary source of income; his other job was as a substitute teacher at high school and college level, at least until he could find a permanent position in a history department somewhere. He glanced up as the door opened, half an hour later and stopped to stare.

The man that had entered was tall and blond, hair cut short, with bright blue eyes. His shoulders were broad and his arms muscular, if the way his jacket fit was anything to judge by. He waved hi to the girl working the register and quickly slipped around the counter and into the back. If he works here, Phil thought as he packed up to go, I'm definitely frequenting this place.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The class he was covering at the local community college while their teacher was out on maternity leave was coming along nicely, he managed to do the grocery shopping and two loads of laundry, and made a start at grading papers before it was time to pick up Skye.

She was, as usual, happy to see him and talked his ear off as they walked to their favorite park near the apartment they were renting (since moving to the area, they had frequented a lot of them and had mutually decided that this would be known as 'their' park), grabbing some hot dogs from a local diner on the way.

After eating, they played for a couple hours (after Phil confirmed that Skye had no homework that needed to be finished) before heading home. By the time dinner was finished, Skye was looking happy and tired. Phil hoped that tonight would be the night that she slept peacefully all the way through. He hoped for this all through their evening routine, consisting of a bath, teeth brushing, reading one chapter from a book (currently they were on Howl's Moving Castle), and being tucked into bed. She was out before he could turn off her light, nightlight automatically turning on. He carefully closed her door part way and decided that, as much as he needed to finish his article, it could wait until morning. Sleep sounded like a better option right now.

He had only been asleep a half an hour when he felt hands gently shaking him. Groaning, he rolled over. “What's wrong?”

“Could you read me another story? I can't sleep.”

Sighing, he sat up and looked at her. Skye gazed back, not upset, just restless looking, even as her eyes were glazed with fatigue.

“OK, but I'm picking something different this time.”

Smiling, she turned and shuffled back to her room, waiting in the doorway to make sure he would follow. He resettled her into bed and pulled out a book on Greek mythology; it was always guaranteed to knock both of them out. It was easily the most boring book he had ever encountered, and before he had read more than three pages, it had done it's trick. Kissing her forehead, he staggered back to his room and passed out on top of the blankets.

It was two hours later that the screaming started.

He was on his feet and running down the hall before the first scream ended. He grabbed her as she started in with another, pulling her tight against his chest, whispering to her. “Shush, sweetie, it's okay. It's fine. I've got you. You're okay, Skye.”

Her screams trailed off into heartrending sobs as she clung to him. He ran his hand up and down her back, whispering reassurances to her, trying to ignore the way his stomach dropped listening to her call for her mom. After about an hour, she settled down and drifted back to sleep. He laid her down and tucked her in, watching as she curled up around her pillow.

He decided that there was no point in sleeping right now—he was too wired. He went instead to his home office and settled in at the computer, finishing his article in record time. It was full of typos, but at one in the morning, he was beyond caring. He knew that Sitwell would just send it back for him to fix after approving it, so he hit send with little embarrassment.

He knew he had dozed off when he was jolted awake by Skye grabbing his arm.

“I woke up and you weren't there! And you weren't in your room! I couldn't find you!” she cried, face screwed up in terror, tears running down her cheeks.

“I'm sorry, sweetie. I had work to finish. I'm sorry. Come here.” She quickly scrambled up into his lap and hid her face in his sleeve, crying uncontrollably. They both gradually drifted off as Phil continued to whisper that he was sorry.

The morning soon found them both curled up tightly together in the chair. Phil winced as he tried to loosen his neck, shifting slightly in his chair. Skye opened her eyes and started at him. “I'm tired,” she mumbled.

“Me too, kid. What do you say we both call out today and just rest?”

Nodding, Skye turned her face back into his arm as Phil went to stand up. “Come on. Let's go eat and then take a nap.”

After a quick breakfast of toaster pancakes and orange juice (Phil was too tired to even attempt to make them from scratch like normal), Phil settled them both down on the couch, cartoons playing quietly in the background. He was out pretty quickly, waking up whenever Skye shifted. She slept pretty soundly, though waking up every hour to make sure he was still there.

Finally, around two, he woke her up. “Let's get dressed and go get something to eat. It's bookstore day.”

“Nat won't be expecting us. We always go later,” she mumbled as she stood up.

“It's okay. If she's not there, we'll just go back later and say hi.”

“Okay.” Skye shuffled down the hall, clearly wanting to delay.

“And we'll go get ice cream after, alright?”

“Okay!” That finally got her running.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the wonderful responses this story has received! It's meant a lot to me. Please enjoy the first of hopefully many dates for our lovely boys.
> 
> Please note that there is a mention of what happened in Skye's past to traumatize her that happens towards the end of the date. Nothing graphic is mentioned (more details will come much later in the story), but if anyone feels this needs to be tagged now, please let me know and I'll fix that.

Clint had been hanging around the bookstore for more than two hours. Natasha had finally gotten fed up with him and left to go get coffee, citing that he could stay there and annoy the hell out of Bobbi. (They had used to date; it was awkward. They still spoke occasionally, though it often ended with her yelling, him pouting, and her banning him from the store for life—he'd be back the next week.) This was the second week he had come in specifically to see this new regular of Nat's (he might technically be a bit of a stalker) and he was beginning to feel like he'd miss him again. Each time he had either arrived right after he left, or had had to leave before he arrived (in one memorable instance, Natasha had laughed that he'd missed him by two minutes).

Sighing, he returned to flipping through an old annual on archery, ignoring the few people currently browsing the shelves. He glanced up when the bell rang (seriously, he thought that Bobbi held on to it specifically to annoy him), noting the father and daughter that entered. The girl was chatting happily away about something, words coming a mile a minute, while the man looked bemused. Clint returned to flipping pages before he felt his gut clench. Man and daughter—what were the odds? This time he looked properly and was pleasantly surprised to find that the man was actually better looking than Natasha's initial description. He flushed slightly when the man caught him staring and smiled quickly. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, actually, Miss Romanov was holding a book for me.”

“Ah, yeah, about that. Those are kept locked up and I can't actually access them. Nat's on break, she should be back soon, if you don't mind waiting.”

“Not at all. There's always something worth looking for here.”

“Can I go look at the kids books?” the little girl asked, tugging at the man's hand.

“We will go look together, Skye, but first I need to look for something.”

“But it's always so boring when you start looking. Can't I go look by myself?”

“Absolutely not. You know the rules about wandering off.”

“But I'll be right there,” she said, pointing to the room connected to the main room.

“In another room, where I can't see you. We've talked about this, Skye. No buts.”

“If I might?” Clint carefully inserted, interrupting what looked to be a well-rehearsed argument. “We just got in a huge box of new books, most of which are kids or young adults. If you want, kid, you can stay here and help me sort them. That way you get first dibs. And your dad can go look for his stuff and still be able to see you.” At her skeptical look, he said, “some of them are really cool, too.”

She glanced over at the man, who hesitated for a moment.

“She'll be right in sight the whole time, promise.”

“Okay. Skye, you stay right there and listen to—”

“Clint.”

“Clint. Okay? Do you promise to be good?”

“I'm always good!”

“What did I say about lying, little missy?”

Skye stuck her tongue out at him before turning toward Clint. “I don't like girly stories.”

“What about things like horses?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Not unicorns. That's just silly.”

“What about horses in a circus?”

Phil watched the two of them talking for a moment before heading toward the back. He glanced up occasionally, only to see the two of them with their heads together, chatting away happily. At one point, Skye had climbed up onto one of the stools that Natasha normally sat on behind the counter, feet swinging back and forth as she laughed over something Clint had said. By the time he had finished making his selection, he was beginning to wonder if it was going to be possible to tear them apart.

“Phil, look! Clint was showing me this really cool book. It's all about this kid who grew up in the circus. And guess what? Clint grew up in one too! Isn't that cool!”

“It is, very cool,” Phil said, smiling. He held his hand out to shake Clint's. “I'm Phil, by the way. Phil Coulson.”

“Clint Barton. And,” he said, turning to Skye, “if I had called my dad by his first name, I'd have gotten a spanking.”

Skye giggled. “Phil's not my dad. Not yet, anyway.”

Phil smiled. “I'm her foster dad.”

Clint looked amazed. “Wow! That's awesome. Not many people would take in a kid like that. How long have you two been together?”

“Almost a year.”

“Phil's the best! He's really smart and he's funny and he lets me read anything I want to. I wish he was my real dad.”

Phil ducked his head before giving her a quick hug. “Me too, pumpkin.”

Clint's throat was tight, preventing him from speaking. He looked up as Natasha walked in, getting to his feet.

“Hey, Nat. Took you long enough.”

“Hey, yourself. Hi, Phil. I got that book you wanted. Give me a minute.”

“No problem. From the looks of things, we'll be buying a lot of stuff this week.”

“I think you might be our best customers,” she said, smiling as she opened the locked cabinet behind the register. “You know the rules, check it over first.”

As Phil flipped through it, Skye grabbed a stack of books on the counter. “Can I please have these?”

“Someone's greedy this week,” Natasha teased.

“I want to give these two to two of my friends at school. Jemma and Leo are also foster kids, only their families only let them go to the library at school. I think they'd like these.”

“Not a problem, sweetie. I'm sure they'll appreciate it,” Phil said, handing over the book. “We'll take the stack, I guess.”

“Good. Clint, make yourself useful and go grab a box,” Natasha said, starting the sales process. When he returned, he was hesitant, eyeing Phil carefully. Natasha snorted when she noticed Phil eyeing him back. “Okay. This is ridiculous. Phil, Clint likes you and would like to go on a date with you. Say yes so that you two can make puppy eyes at each other somewhere else.”

Startled, Phil's eyes opened wide as he stared at Clint.

Blushing, Clint ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I think you're pretty cute. Care to have coffee sometime?”

“Wait, you work at the coffee shop down the street, right? I thought you seemed familiar!”

Clint jumped slightly, meeting Phil's gaze head on. “Ah, yeah, I'm usually there starting late morning. What, you go there?”

“Once in a while. Whenever I have time to kill. The coffee is pretty good.”

“So, you want to go out sometime?”

Phil hesitated before saying, “I'd love too, but I'm not sure now is a good time. We've been having some issues at home and I'm still fairly new to the area so I don't know any good babysitters....”

“It's cool. Maybe the three of us could go out for pizza? I know a really good pizza place not far from here.”

“Pizza?” Skye said, eyes lighting up. “I love pizza! Phil, please can we go? Please? Clint's really nice and cool. Please!”

Blushing, Phil looked at his shoes, biting his lip.

“Say yes,” Natasha whispered. “Trust me.”

Nodding his head, he finally looked up. “Okay. I mean, I'd like to go for pizza. Assuming you wouldn't mind me bringing a kid a long?”

“No, man, it's perfectly cool. Thank you. I mean, I'm looking forward to it. Want to go tonight, or would tomorrow be better?”

“Tomorrow, please, if possible. Gives me time to get ready.”

“Not a problem. Here's my number. Text me later and I'll send you the address.”

“Sounds great. It's a date.” They both grinned like idiots, causing Skye to roll her eyes and look at Nat.

“I know, it's sickening. Get a room, you two.”

 

~~~

 

By Friday afternoon, Clint was a nervous wreck. He had spent the night at Natasha's, finally passing out on the couch at two in the morning after telling her over and over how this was a bad idea. Phil was too good for him—a scholar, a foster parent, a true gentleman.

“What was I thinking? I can't go out with him! What's going to happen when he realizes that he's too good for me? I mean, he's perfect, Nat! Everything about him is perfect. Even the way he dresses. He deserves someone smarter, who has a future waiting for them.”

“Clint, just shut up. It'll be fine. He clearly likes you and if he can't see how wonderful and special you are, he doesn't deserve you.”

“But I'm not smart, Nat. I never even finished school.”

“Bullshit. I've seen you do complex equations in your head in seconds. You've self taught yourself about so many subjects, it's not even funny. Clint, you're smarter than a lot of people I know.”

“But—”

“If it bothers you so much, why don't you go back to school. Get your GED and enroll in some community college classes. You'd be great.”

“But he's not going to want me around a kid once he finds out I'm an ex-carnie dropout with a record.”

“Clint, you were cleared of all charges. And if he can't see the real you, then it's his loss. You're handsome; you're funny, and kind, and smart, and caring. Besides, the kid likes you and I've never seen her talk to anyone but myself or Phil.”

Clint finally settled down to reassurances from Nat that things would be fine (the fact that she slipped a sleeping pill into his ice cream wasn't mentioned until later—he eventually forgave her).

He debated dressing up, going back and forth between his nicest clothes and casual wear, finally settling on a charcoal gray v-neck shirt, black pants, his leather boots that had seen far too many concerts (punk rock would always hold a special place in his heart), leather cuff with a silver strip embedded in the design of an arrow on his right wrist, and a couple of silver rings. Sighing, he headed for the bus stop, hoping for the best even as he expected the worst.

 

~~~

 

When they got home, Phil helped Skye tuck the books she had picked for her friends away into her backpack—he only raised an eyebrow for a few seconds as she told him how her friends were really interested in science and technology (he was sure that the college student that had most likely sold them had had a hard time understanding them, seeing as they were practically brand new—hopefully two seven year-old's would fair better). After a quick supper and a check that everything was ready for school the next day, he bundled her off to bed. He wasn't surprised when just after midnight, he woke up to her shaking his arm, complaining about having a bad dream. Needing sleep, he pulled her into his bed and kissed her forehead. He felt her wake up a few times during the night, but each time she quickly dozed back off after seeing that he was still there. It was a bad habit for her to get into, but by morning they were both better rested and ready for the day.

That afternoon, while getting ready, Phil nervously checked his phone. He had sent Clint a text the night before and was now nervously checking and rechecking that the address had not changed, or worse, that Clint had decided not go through with this.

“Do I have to dress up or can I wear whatever?” Skye asked him as they were getting ready. Phil had looked up reviews and photos of the restaurant, noting that Jasper had reviewed it (no surprise, the man had eaten at almost every restaurant in existence); he had given it five stars, which coming from Jasper meant it must be phenomenal. The prices were reasonable and the menu fairly tame. While the decor was fancy, most of the diners seemed to vary between casual and business casual. He hesitated as he looked at Skye.

“No holes and no sandals, it's still cold outside. And no superhero shirts. Let's try and look a little nice tonight.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, going back to her room. Phil was sitting on his bed, warring between dressing up (after all, it was a first date and first impressions could only be made once—never mind that Clint had already seen him in his ratty old Captain America sweater and torn up sneakers, he was choosing to ignore that part) and going with a more relaxed look (because he was bringing a kid to a first date, what the hell had he been thinking; why hadn't he asked Pepper before this for a babysitter), finally settling on a blue long sleeve dress shirt, left open at the collar and black dress pants. Sighing, he glanced one last time in the mirror (and wished he had more hair that he could actually style) before grabbing his coat and meeting Skye in the living room. She studied him intensely, frowning.

“No good?” he asked, worried.

“Nope,” she said, finally smiling. “You look good. He'll love you.”

Blushing, he took her hand. “Come on, brat. Let's not keep him waiting.”

 

~~~

 

Clint had just settled in at the table when he saw the door open and suddenly his heart was in his throat. Phil looked absolutely stunning as he searched the room. Belatedly, Clint raised his hand and waved, gulping at the relieved smile Phil sent his way as they hurried over.

“You look gorgeous,” he said before he could stop himself.

Blushing, Phil ducked his head as he placed their jackets onto the chair already containing Clint's. “Thank you. You're pretty stunning yourself.”

“He's very sexy,” Skye said, settling into her chair.

“Skye, language please,” Phil said, though he did love the way her words had made Clint turn bright pink—it added a whole new level to his attractiveness.

Skye merely rolled her eyes and picked up her menu.

“Although, she's not wrong,” Phil said softly, smiling when Clint took his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Before things could get any mushier, Clint cleared his throat and said, “this place is kind of cool. You can either order one a house specialty pizza or create your own. Plus, the pasta tends to be fantastic.”

“What do you recommend?” Phil asked, glancing at the almost overwhelming list of toppings.

“Personally, I like the Hawaiian or the classic, though you can't go wrong with the meat lover's if you're really hungry.”

“Phil, can I make my own? Please?”

“Only if you promise to actually eat what you pick. You can choose up to five, so think about it carefully.”

Skye huffed before studying the menu. Phil smiled at Clint's raised eyebrow. “She can be quite opinionated sometimes.”

“Not necessarily a bad thing as long as she doesn't exploit it.”

“Oh, she will at some point. She usually does.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Skye said testily, the top of her head barely visible over the top of the menu.

Clint grinned at Phil and took his hand. “Too soon?”

“No. It's fine,” Phil said, throat tight. He didn't want to acknowledge how long it had been since someone had touched him in a non-friendly manner (at least in the good sense of the word touch – his last two boyfriends had started out okay and had quickly progressed to bad). He smiled at Clint. “Thank you for asking me out.”

“Dude, it's really no sweat off my back. It's hardly a bad thing when an insanely handsome man says yes to you.”

Phil was still blushing when their waiter arrived.

Clint ordered the meat lovers with a side salad to share while Phil picked a pasta dish (they had settled on family style dining). Skye, feeling either adventurous or rebellious, ordered a build-your-own with ham, artichokes, asparagus, green olives, and sausage (Phil had talked her out of jalapenos).

They made small talk while waiting for the food. Phil found out that Clint was into archery (“Part of my act in the circus, but I enjoyed it so much I decided to keep it up after.”) and loved to cook (“I'm still learning; it's mostly for fun.”) and clearly had strong opinions about comic books, something Phil could appreciate. Phil volunteered that he was a teacher (“which you knew of course”) waiting to get a permanent position; his family was from Wisconsin originally (“I spent some time in the east growing up and studied in New York; I have very little desire to go back, although I did enjoy New York for a time”), and that he was a huge Captain America fan.

“You should meet my friend Steve, then. He just auditioned for the role in that miniseries they're going to make,” Clint said.

“Really? That's awesome.”

As their food arrived, Clint turned his attention to Skye, who had been surprisingly well-behaved, never butting in to their conversation, though she did chime in from time to time. “Do you like school?”

“It's okay,” she said, covering her pizza with shredded parmesan. “It's kind of boring sometimes. I already know what we're learning right now but my teacher gets mad if I try to skip ahead during reading time. Jemma and Leo are the same way.”

“We're looking into a private school for Skye right now. My friend Pepper is helping.”

“Education is very important. Don't ever let anyone hold you back,” Clint said, staring at her.

“I don't. Phil's really good about letting me look stuff up and read whatever. I like him.”

“You want to know a secret? I like him too.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

Phil choked on his drink at her words. “Skye—!”

“Well, it's a little early to know that yet. It's only the first date. I usually wait until the fifth to propose.”

“You're silly,” Skye giggled.

“No, you are!” Clint shot back.

“Both of you are silly,” Phil said, shaking his head.

Clint ducked his head and said, “I was thinking for dessert we could go to a bakery that's nearby. If you want.”

“I think we'd both like that,” Phil said, noticing how Skye's eyes lit up.

“Phil? I need to go to the bathroom first.”

“Okay sweetie.”

“It's just down that hall,” Clint said, pointing toward a hall across the room from them.

“Do you need help?”

“I can do it myself, okay?” Skye huffed, standing up. “You'll stay right here, right? You won't move?” She suddenly looked worried.

“Cross my heart.”

“Okay. Don't move.”

They watched her walk away, both waving when she looked back once.

“She's a great kid,” Clint said. “She's lucky she's got you.”

“I'm her twelfth foster family. I've had her for about six months now.”

“Shit. How long has she been in the system?”

“Since she was three. Not a lot of people were able to deal with the type of care she needed.”

“Medical problems?” Clint asked, concerned.

“Psychological. Her mother was murdered in their home and her father then beat her attacker to death. All of this happened in front of Skye.”

“Fuck!” Clint exclaimed. “And she was three?”

“Yup. She has nightmares because of it, though not always about it. And then, every time a family gave her up, it got worse.”

“They gave her up because of a few nightmares?”

“Partly. Also because she talks back sometimes. She's very smart and likes to question things, so sometimes she speaks without thinking. A lot of people didn't like that, felt like she was mouthing off. Plus, she tends to be wary of strangers, especially men.”

“Why did you agree to go out with me, then? If she's afraid of men—?”

“She liked you. I've never seen her talk to anyone else that quickly before, with the exception of our friend Tony. She has good instincts. I trust her.”

Clint fell silent, startling out of it when Phil reached for his hand again. “Plus, you were the only one to acknowledge her and invite her along. Thank you.” He kissed Clint's hand, blushing slightly, hoping he wasn't moving things too quickly or misreading the situation.

“It's really too early to say I never want this to end, isn't it? Kind of creepy?”

 

Laughing, Phil leaned back. “Never, as long as you don't mind having a crazy kid along for the ride.”

“Good thing I love crazy.”

“Skye told me you were a foster child as well.”

“I was. I was older than her when I went in with my older brother. Only I aged out. Never found someone like you, someone that was willing to take me in and give me a chance.” He grinned then. “But, I found Nat after, which helped. She let me crash on her couch until I found my feet.”

“Natasha seems like a wonderful person.”

“She is. Never my type, but that's probably for the better. Sometimes you just need a friend.”

Phil glanced over toward the hall and saw Skye looking around. He stood up so that she could see him easier; he didn't miss the relieved expression on her face as she hurried over. “Ready to go, kiddo?”

“Desserts are calling,” Clint singsonged as they got up to leave.

“I want something with chocolate,” Skye said, grabbing their hands.

“I don't know, do you think she deserves chocolate, Phil?”

“Maybe. She did finish her weird pizza.”

“Weird? It was good! You both tried some!” she cried, giggling.

“Fair point, fair point. Okay, chocolate it is!” Clint said, leading the way.

 

~~~ 

 

By the time they parted, Phil never wanted the night to end. Clint had seemed to feel the same way, as they both lingered over the goodnight kiss, reluctantly parting only when Skye softly cleared her throat.

“People are staring,” she said.

“Let them stare,” Phil said with a groan, moving slowly away from Clint.

“Please tell me we can do this again soon. As in immediately.”

“Tomorrow?” Phil asked, clinging to his hands.

“Yes. Definitely. Call me anytime. I teach archery lessons in the early afternoon, but I free at night.”

“Okay. Maybe we can go see a movie.”

“I like movies,” Clint said, brain still too fuzzy to try and sound smooth.

“You two aren't going to make out the whole time, right?” Skye asked, tongue sticking out.

“I should, just to creep you out,” Phil said, grabbing her hand. “Say good night to Clint.”

“Night, Clint,” she said, pulling away from Phil so she could hug him. “Thank you for dinner. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too. See you both tomorrow?”

“Gladly.”

That night, Phil was happy that Skye didn't have any nightmares. His dreams were filled with thoughts of Clint and what he wanted to do to him in this bed (or really, any bed; Phil wasn't picky). In the morning, he decided it was time to call Pepper and see if she knew of any good recommendations for babysitters. It would definitely be a good thing to know for the future.


	3. Chapter 3

Weekends usually found Clint jogging with Bucky. And more often than not, the main topic of conversation was Steve—mainly complaints on Bucky's part. Today was no exception.

“And then, he tells me that I need to investigate the guy who's making my new prosthetic, even though he's worked with the hospital for years! Like I don't know what I'm doing. I mean, fuck man, I'm a grown human being; I can make my own bad decisions if I want to.”

“He just cares about you, bro. It'll be fine. Steve's a worrier, you know that. It's actually kind of disgustingly sweet.”

“Yeah, but if we keep fighting the way we do, Sam's going to kick us out. And believe me, I don't want to go back to a crowded apartment complex. Too many weirdos.”

“I still can't believe the three of you are living together.”

“Rents a lot cheaper that way, and besides, Sam has a house and no life. That man does not need that much space to himself.”

“So what's going on with you and Steve? Are you two dating or is it still just unresolved sexual tension?”

“Dude, I don't know what we are. We're not having sex, but we do sleep in the same room sometimes. Nightmares, you know?”

Clint nodded as they jogged into their usual park.

“Guess we're still on hold, like before. He says that he's waiting for me to be more stable, but I think he's just too scared to admit anything. Honestly, I'd rather just know one way or another. I'm not picky at this point.” Bucky pointed toward the right, down a trail they rarely took. “So what about you and your hottie? Any hot first date kinkiness I should know about? And please don't spare any details.”

“Nah, we just had pizza and desserts.”

“Dude, what the fuck? I thought you were drooling over this guy?”

“I was—am! Definitely am. But the kid was with us, so that kind of limits what we can do.”

Bucky came to an abrupt halt and stared at Clint, incredulous. “He brought his kid with him? On a first date? Why? What's wrong with this guy?”

“Nothing. He's new to the area and only uses babysitters he can trust. Besides, I told him it was okay. And anyways, Skye isn't his kid, not exactly. He's a foster parent.”

Bucky stared at him for a minute before he started running again. “You'd better marry this one.”

“Bucky....”

“No. Shut up. Seriously? Marry him. Adopt the kid and marry him.”

“Et tu? You sound just like Nat.”

“Not necessarily a bad thing. Come on, let's finish this shit. I feel like a milkshake.”

“That kind of defeats the purpose of exercise.”

“Shut up Barton. Just for that, you can join me tomorrow as well.”

 

~~~

 

On Saturday mornings, Skye had sessions with with a therapist. It was something Sharon had set up while she was still in her last group home, just before she came into Phil's life. Phil made sure they were always scheduled for first thing in the morning, figuring that way, if the session went badly, at least he had the rest of the weekend to try and help her settle. Most visits ended well enough, but every now and then, it came to tears and clinginess for days after. If it wasn't for the fact that it was helping her, Phil would have asked her new social worker to let him end them himself; but according to Sharon, the sessions had been ordered by her Skye's last advocate and ending them would most likely require a court order.

Today turned out to be one of the bad ones; about halfway through, Skye came running out of the office and straight into Phil's arms, sobbing uncontrollably, the doctor right behind her. Sighing, Phil gathered her up and stood to leave.

“I'm sorry Mr. Coulson, I'll email you a preliminary report this afternoon.”

“That's fine. See you next week.”

After setting up her next appointment, he bundled her into the car and started driving. His hands were clenched on the steering wheel as he listened to her sniffling in the passenger seat (normally he made her sit in the back seat because she was still so small, but on days like this, they both wanted to be closer together). He stopped for fast food on the way home (something they rarely did, but Phil considered it a necessity sometimes) and once they reached the apartment, they snuggled up together on the couch. Phil queued up the old Captain America cartoons that he used to watch as a kid on Netflix and settled in to wait. It took awhile, but eventually she started giggling along with some of the sillier action sequences. He absently played with his phone as the day wore on, finally sending a text to Clint, saying that going to the movies probably wasn't a great idea and that he'd call him later to explain. He looked up as he felt Skye tug on his arm.

“What's up, buttercup?”

“Did you just cancel your date?”

“I don't feel like going out tonight. Why, did you still want to go?”

“No. But Clint can still come over, right? I like him. He's funny.”

“I could ask him to. Are you sure?”

She nodded and went back to leaning against him, eyes once again glued to the TV.

Phil looked back at his phone, reading the response from Clint, who was clearly trying to not let his disappointment bleed through and act like he understood. Phil quickly replied with 'you could still come over here, if you want. I have Netflix and can make a pretty good steak. I just don't think that either Skye or myself are up to leaving the house today.'

Clint's response of 'yes, but I'll do the cooking' was almost instantaneous and brought a smile to Phil's face. He handed his phone to Skye, who nodded after seeing Clint's response.

At about three o'clock, Skye asked when Clint was going to come over.

“In about an hour, sweetie.”

“Okay.”

“Why, tired of it being just the two of us?” he teased gently, hugging her close as he said it.

“Never!” she cried, adamant as she clung tightly to him.

Choking up, Phil leaned his head against her's. “Same here.”

 

~~~

 

When Clint arrived, he could immediately tell that something was up by the visible tension in Phil's neck and eyes, but he quickly brushed it off when he found Phil's kiss to be just as warm (if not warmer) then the one from the night before. Skye rushed forward to hug him before pulling him into the room.

Laughing, Phil took the shopping bag from his hand. “Not so eager, kid. At least let him get his shoes and jacket off.”

Clint smiled. “Missed me that much, huh?”

She scowled and stalked back towards the living room.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Welcome to our humble abode.”

The apartment walls were painted in soothing shades of blue and green; bookshelves lined most of the available wall space in the living room, but framed posters and photos were scattered throughout. The couches were dark gray and looked both comfortable and practical. Clint sighed. “It's beautiful. Just like you.”

Phil blushed and started towards the kitchen. “Flattery won't help you; I've already fallen for you.”

“Really? Did it hurt much?” Clint teased.

“Only if you decide to leave us without warning.”

Clint froze at the naked honesty in those words. “Not unless you want me to. I can't promise you forever, not yet, but I'm willing to try.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's just been a trying day. Thank you for being here at all.”

“It's my pleasure.” Clint cleared his throat. “I think a change in conversation is in order. I bought supplies for spaghetti and meatballs, if that's okay.”

“Sounds great. Skye and I both love it.”

“Good. Want to help?”

“Gladly.”

Clint started Phil on cutting up the vegetables for the sauce when he noticed Skye watching them from the doorway. “Hey, no looky-loos. If you want to watch, you have to come over and help.”

“Help with what?” she asked, shuffling forward.

“Want to help me mix up the meat? We're making meatballs,” Clint said with a smile.

“Cool.” She climbed up on a stool next to the counter. “What kind of meatballs?”

“Beef and pork. That's okay, right? No dietary restrictions?” he asked Phil.

“Sounds great,” Phil said, smiling as he shook his head. “For the record, we also like turkey and chicken.”

“Phil makes good turkey meatballs,” Skye said, pulling a large mixing bowl out of the cabinet.

“Does he? We'll have to get him to make them soon,” Clint said mischievously.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Skye said.

“Skye,” Phil warned, but Clint just laughed.

“I think we could bully him into doing it. How are your puppy dog eyes?”

Skye gazed at him pleadingly. “It doesn't usually work.”

“Well, I think we can double team him and win.”

Sighing, Phil turned away and grabbed a pot. “I think letting the two of you meet may have been a bad idea on Natasha's part.”

“Come on, you know you love us.”

“I do, unfortunately.”

Laughing, Clint and Skye turned back to the bowl, where Clint dumped the meat in and said, “get mixing, squirt.” He approached Phil, showing him how much water and oil to add to the pot, before quickly chopping up some fresh herbs. He tossed half into the pot and half into the meat mixture, measuring out some salt, pepper, and dried onions to add to the bowl. By the time the sauce was simmering, Skye had most of the meat mixed up. Clint quickly added panko breadcrumbs and egg, helping her mix it. He gestured to Phil, who brought over a baking pan.

“Okay, we can all work together on this. They need to be about this size,” he said, swiftly rolling one in the palm of his hands.

“What if I want to make a really big one?” Skye asked, grabbing a large handful of meat.

“Well, you could, but it wouldn't cook thoroughly, so you'd have to eat a raw meatball. Do you want a raw meatball?”

“Eww, no gross.”

Smirking, he leaned over towards Phil and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for inviting me over.”

“Thank you for coming. I think we really needed this.”

Clint smiled as they finished up. “Anytime.” He added a bit of broth to the pan and settled it into the oven. “Everything should be finished about the time that the pasta is done. Phil, you want to start boiling the water while I grate the cheese?”

“What about me?” Skye asked.

“You can set the table,” Phil said. “Napkins, silverware, plates, and cups. Get moving.”

She sighed as she jumped down from the stool.

“Hands first, please,” both Phil and Clint called.

“Yes 'dads',” she muttered. She and Phil both froze for a couple of seconds, air tense.

Phil finally broke it by responding, “thank you, 'daughter',” to which Skye, clearly embarrassed, rolled her eyes. Phil turned turned toward Clint and pointed toward the counter. “'Boyfriend', could yo hand me the strainer?”

“But of course. 'Daughter-of-my-boyfriend', hurry up and finish setting the table.”

“Both of you are so weird,” Skye said, trying and failing to not giggle.

They settled in to eat, food disappearing quickly, banter coming as easily as the night before. Phil was surprised at how right it all felt, like this was how it had always been and was always supposed to be. He hadn't laughed this much in a while, nor felt this safe and comfortable. Afterwards, they washed the dishes as a pair, while Skye made popcorn and picked a movie. When they finished, they went to sit on the couch, Phil in the center with Clint on his left and Skye tucked into his right. The movie was familiar—soothing and funny and not requiring too much attention, while still allowing for a companionable silence.

When it ended, Phil sent Skye off to bed.

“But Clint's still here. I want to stay up.”

“It's late, sweetie. You need to go to bed,” Phil said, leading her to her room.

“If you want, I could read you a story?” Clint suggested, standing up and following them.

“Would you? Any story I pick?” Skye asked, eyes lighting up.

“Only one chapter,” Phil said firmly. “Otherwise, she'll make you read the longest book she owns.”

Sighing, Skye headed into the bathroom while Phil pulled down her sheets. Clint studied the decor of the room. Most of the furniture was white, with the walls painted a light purple (a color he greatly approved of) with the accents being in pinks and blues. There were a handful of plush toys carefully put away around the room, as well as a desk and a bookshelf stuffed full of books.

“This has to be the nicest room I've ever seen for a foster kid.”

“I wanted her to feel comfortable. Only cost a couple hundred dollars total—I managed to get most of it from Ikea. I figured she needed a space that was all her own.”

“What's going to happen if she goes back into the system? I doubt they'll let her take it all with her.”

“I wasn't planning on letting that happen anytime soon.”

Clint couldn't resist surging forward to kiss him, stopping only when Skye brushed past him with a large book in hand.

“Ready for your story, kiddo?” Clint asked breathlessly.

“Yes. I want this one.” She held up the book, which happened to be The Lord of the Rings.

“Sneaky. Nice long chapters there,” Phil said, sticking his tongue out as she started grinning.

“Cool. Used to love these books. Okay, where did you leave off?”

“Start at the beginning,” she begged.

Skye was still awake by the end of the first chapter and Phil, who was sitting next to her at the head of the bed, was enjoying listening to Clint's voice too much to protest when he automatically moved on to the next chapter. He was so absorbed in reading that he didn't notice until Phil gently nudged him with his foot that Skye had fallen asleep finally somewhere in chapter three. He closed the book and carefully stood up from the foot of the bed, watching as Phil kissed Skye gently on the forehead before turning out the light, nightlight automatically coming on. Neither spoke until they were back in the living room.

“I'd really like to stay longer, if that's okay,” Clint said, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.

“Please. I'd like that. I could make us some coffee if you want. Or we have beer?”

“Beer might be nice,” Clint said, gratefully sitting down on the couch again.

Phil smiled as he retreated into the kitchen. He returned with two bottles, settling down next to Clint, who draped his arm over his shoulders.

“This is nice,” Phil said. “I'm glad you could come over.”

“I'm glad you invited me.”

“Skye really loves you.”

Clint leaned closer to Phil, allowing him to settle his head into his shoulder as Clint slid his arm down his back. “She's adorable. I'm still going to kill Nat for not introducing us sooner.”

“She mentioned you quite a bit, though never by name. I'm surprised I never saw you there before.”

“Well, Bobbi and I used to date. It's still kind of awkward at times.”

“Bobbi's the owner, right? Tall blond woman?”

“That's her.”

“That must have been interesting.”

“Good choice of words.”

Phil absently picked up the remote and scrolled through options before settling on a well-known drama. “This okay?”

“It's perfect,” Clint said, snuggling Phil, who settled his head onto his chest. He gently ran his hands through his hair, finally leaning down to kiss him halfway through the episode when they heard a startled yelp from the hall.

“Skye?” Phil called, quickly sitting up as Skye came stumbling out of her room crying, looking around wildly. “Sweetie, come here. It's okay.”

“Phil? I'm scared. He—he...”

“Baby, it's okay. It's just a dream. Come here.” He held his arms out as she ran over, sobbing. He pulled her up into his arms before muttering to Clint, “change it to something funny. Quick.”

“Skye, look at me. He's not here. He can't hurt you. I'll never let that happen, okay? And neither will Clint. I promise.”

She peeked at Clint from over Phil's shoulder.

“Never,” he assured her, still not quite sure what was going on, but knowing that he never wanted to see that look in her eyes again.

“Promise?”

“To the stars and back,” Phil said, hugging her tightly.

“Can I watch TV with you for awhile? I promise I'll be quiet and I'll go back to sleep soon. Please?”

“Absolutely,” Clint said, shifting to the side so she could sit between them. “Have you ever seen My Little Pony?”

She shook her head and curled up between them.

All three had fallen asleep by the seventh episode, but not before Skye had started giggling and smiling part way through the marathon.

Phil woke up sometime in the middle of the night with a groan when Skye nudged him.

“Phil, I'm going to go back to my room, okay?”

“Okay, sweetie. Good night.”

Clint startled awake as she stood up, yawning before noticing Phil wince. “Back?”

“Yup. I'm not as young as I like to pretend to be,” he said, slowly standing up.

“Here, let me rub it a bit,” Clint said, gesturing for Phil to sit on the coffee table in front of him. He carefully worked the knots out of his shoulders and neck, grinning at the groan it caused. Phil's head dropped down onto his chest as Clint worked his hands down lower, kneading his lower back. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the back of his neck.

“I'm sorry.”

“Hmm? For what?” Clint asked, hands slowing.

“For tonight.”

Clint gently tugged on Phil's arms, getting him to turn around and face him. “How often does she have nightmares?”

“Fairly often. Usually they aren't too bad, but she had a therapy session today. The doctor was trying to get her to talk about her father.”

Clint inhaled sharply. “Is that who she was dreaming about?”

Phil nodded, eyes downcast. “Normally, her dreams are about her mother, or about her time in foster care. She has a lot of abandonment issues.”

“Not surprising,” Clint muttered, making Phil give a watery smile.

“This morning, she had an appointment. We usually try and make them for the weekends. They want her to start using her real name again. It hasn't been going well.”

“Real name?”

“‘Skye’ was more of a nickname. Her mother used to tease her her that when she smiled or laughed, it was like the nighttime sky lighting up with a million stars. Skye became her middle name, but now it's the only one she'll answer to. She tends to freak out if anyone tried to call her Daisy anymore.”

“Because of her father?”

“Pretty much.”

“Please tell me he's in jail? Because if not, I'm going to have to hunt him down and destroy him.”

“He's in jail, though he is coming up for parole soon.” Phil frowned. “The one good thing is that they've already said he's not allowed to have Skye back.”

“Good.” Clint leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “You should go to bed. You look like you're ready to drop.”

“Stay. Please?” Phil asked, eyes looking hopelessly lost.

“Oh course,” Clint said, already helpless when it came to denying Phil anything. “Where...?”

“My room's down the hall. Please?”

“Lead on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look. Some fluff, some trauma, and our boys moving rather quickly in their relationship. I mean, what's the sense of wasting time when you've waited so long to find love? Neither of them are thinking clearly at the moment, even though they both should know better. I love these dorks.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was shining with entirely too much enthusiasm right into Clint's eyes, making him groan as he rolled over. He snuggled up to the warm body stretched out beside him, pulling it closer as he sighed, eyes still tightly shut. Slowly, his brain caught up with his body and began to realize that it wasn't Natasha he was clinging to (or even Bucky, as had happened after one memorable night spent with him, Natasha, and an open bar). Breathing deeply, he was met by the smells he associated with Phil—shampoo, deodorant, and sweat mingling to form a warm, inviting scent that made him want to cling tighter. He suddenly realized he was hard, which went farther than the sun had toward waking him up.

Sighing, Phil pressed back against him, enjoying the warmth at his back. He tightened his grip on Clint's arm, softly mumbling a good morning.

“Hey,” Clint breathed, trying to subtly shift away without breaking contact.

Groaning, Phil tried to pull him closer. “Don't get up yet. It's still early and if Skye's still asleep, I plan to be too.”

“Dude, this is technically only our second date still. I don't want to make things awkward.”

Making a questioning noise, Phil pushed back against Clint, grinning when he felt his predicament. Rolling onto his back, he pulled Clint in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around him as he settled on top of him. Things were quickly heating up when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Groaning, Phil buried his head into Clint's shoulder.

“Phil, are you decent?” Skye called through the door.

“No,” he called back, smiling at Clint's flushed face. “What's up, Skye?”

“I'm hungry.”

“Okay, give us a minute. Go watch some TV, okay?”

“ 'Kay. Morning Clint!”

“Morning Skye,” he said, ducking his face to hide against Phil's shirt.

Phil was shaking with laughter as Clint rolled away. “What kind of kid asks if someone is decent? Just how many people do you bring over?”

“You are the first person I've dated in a while,” Phil said, laughing in earnest now. “But she did walk in on one of her foster families once and kind of freaked out. And we've been working on manners, so....”

“Seriously? No one's tried to take you out before now? I don't believe that.”

Phil smiled. “It's kind of hard to date when a kid. Plus I make it a point to try and keep Skye in as stable an environment as possible. If she doesn't trust someone they don't come over. Consider yourself special.”

“Well shit then. Guess I'm going to have to make our first time extra special when we finally get there.”

Phil kissed his cheek, smiling. “I think we're well on our way to that, though a raincheck is probably in order for today.”

Sighing, Clint sprawled on his back. “True. Well, at least that took care of the problem.”

Phil smacked him with a pillow before rolling out of bed. “Get up. I'll lend you a clean shirt.”

“Thanks, man, but I can just wear my dirty one home if you need me to get out of your hair. I've never been embarrassed about the 'walk of shame'.”

“I was going to at least let you stay for breakfast,” Phil said, tossing a shirt at Clint. “I make a pretty good french toast.”

“Might never leave if that's the case.”

Smiling, Phil opened the door and headed for the bathroom. Clint quickly pulled on his jeans and Phil's shirt, trying not to linger over the faint clean smell that reminded him of Phil and hugs. By the time he was dressed, the bathroom was empty and he could hear Skye and Phil talking in the kitchen. He grinned like an idiot when he noticed a still wrapped toothbrush waiting for him on the counter. When he walked into the kitchen, Skye had already set the table and was filling glasses of orange juice while Phil worked at the stove top. Breathing deeply, he walked over and draped himself across Phil's back, chin resting on his left shoulder. “I don't know what smells better—the food, the coffee, or you.”

“Flattery gets you extra powdered sugar on your plate.”

“Hi Clint! I'm glad you stayed over. Maybe you can come to the park with us later.”

“Skye, sweetie, Clint might have had plans for today. And besides, we weren't planning on going to the park, remember?” Phil dished up the food. “Hopefully you didn't have any plans for this morning,” he said as he handed Clint a plate.

“Nah, nothing for the day. I usually just go running with my friend on Saturday and Sunday mornings, but it's not a big deal. I'm free as long as you want me.”

“Cool!” Skye yelled, pouring syrup on her plate. “Can Clint come with us to Tony and Pepper's later?”

“We'd have to ask first, Skye.”

They were half way through breakfast when the doorbell rang. With a sigh, Phil excused himself from the table. When he opened the door, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Sharon, hi. What's going on?”

“Hi Phil, just doing a check-in.”

“A check-in, huh? I didn't think that social workers worked on Sundays,” he said, smirking at her.

“Well, it wouldn't be a surprise visit if you knew I was coming, now would it?” She smiled at him, staring with her head tilted.

“And the fact that you no longer manage Skye's case means nothing to you, I'm sure.”

She shrugged. “I'm nosy? And I do I really need a reason?”

Laughing, Phil hugged her and gestured for her to come in. “We were just finishing up breakfast. Would you like some?”

“Is that your famous french toast I smell?”

“I'll make you a plate.”

She laughed as she followed him into the kitchen, stopping when she saw Clint and Skye happily chatting away.

“Something you forgot to mention yesterday? Or while we were standing in the doorway?”

Clint glanced up, sensing the tension that had started to fill the room.

“Sharon, this is Clint. Clint Barton. Clint, this is Sharon Carter.”

Sharon's face was hard to read. “Phil, can I speak to you in the other room?”

Biting his lip, Clint looked between the two of them, muttering, “I can leave if that will help.”

“No, stay,” both Sharon and Phil said. Phil smiled and kissed his cheek quickly. “I'll be right back.”

Sharon had already gone into his office, waiting with her arms crossed. As soon as Phil closed the door, she lit into him.

“What were you thinking, bringing a strange man into your apartment with Skye? And letting him stay overnight?”

“You don't know that he stayed over,” Phil said, trying to deflect the conversation.

“Please, I'm not stupid. He's wearing one of your shirts. Remember Phil, we've been friends for a long time. I know everything about you, especially when it's a shirt I bought you.”

Sighing, Phil collapsed against his desk chair. “How much trouble am I in?”

“Depends. How well do you know this guy?”

“We've been on two dates officially, but we've talked extensively. He's from Iowa originally, he was a foster child, spent a number of years performing with a traveling circus, a year with the military until he was injured and lost part of the hearing in his left ear.”

“Any criminal records?”

Phil hesitated, looking away from her.

“Phillip?”

“When he was seventeen, he was arrested along with his brother on suspicion of robbery. He was cleared of all charges after it was proven that he knew nothing about it and had been set up by his brother. He was actually the one to turn him in for past crimes when he found out about it.”

Sighing, Sharon rubbed her forehead. “You really know how to pick them, Phil. First Garrett and now this?”

“Clint is nothing like John. Believe me. I won't make that same mistake twice.” Biting his lip, Phil asked, “does this mean I'm going to lose her?”

“No Phil. It shouldn't be a problem as long as no one lies about it. It'll just make all of this a bit harder. Why did you let him stay over, though?”

“That wasn't part of the plan. But you know what happened with Skye at therapy yesterday. After she went to bed, we were talking for a bit and she had a nightmare about her father—”

Sharon's hand clenched and her eyes darkened.

“Exactly how we both felt. And Skye, she trusts him. I've never seen her open up to anyone that quickly. She wanted him to stay, and, well...I guess I'm stupid.”

“No. You're not. You're a good person, Phil Coulson. And I will say this, I've never seen that kid talking to anyone like this morning. Not since she met you.” Sighing, Sharon turned away. “I'll let my supervisor know as well as Skye's case worker. It should be fine.”

“Thank you, Sharon.”

“Now I believe I was promised french toast.”

Laughing, he opened the door and led the way back to the kitchen. Skye was playing with Phil's tablet, reading what looked like comics while Clint washed the dishes. He nervously looked over his shoulder as they entered. “I swear I'm not a pedophile.”

“That's the least of my concern,” Sharon said, grabbing a cup of coffee. “Phil would flat out kill you if you were.”

“Alright then,” Clint said, shoulders relaxing.

“Phil explained everything. I'm just here to check in on Skye. I hear your session yesterday didn't go too well.”

Skye shrugged. “Do I have to keep going? I hate it.”

“'Fraid so, sweetie.”

“Kay,” she said sullenly.

“How's school been?”

“School's okay. It's kind of boring sometimes. And Jemma and Leo and I get into trouble a lot.”

“What are you three up to now?” Sharon asked with a sigh, trying not to laugh.

“Nothing,” Skye said, trying for innocence and failing.

“Skye....”

“Okay, so we might have played a prank on our teacher. And since Fitz and Simmons already know all the math and science stuff they keep trying to teach us, and I know all the computer and history stuff, we get really bored.”

“I see. So, the usual stuff, then.”

“Yup!”

Smiling, Sharon nodded her thanks as Phil placed a plate in front of her. “Phil, this is delicious. Marry me already.”

“Hey hey hey! Back off, blondie, he's mine.”

“No way! I've known him longer. I've got dibs.”

Giggling, Skye left to get dressed while the two of them argued. Phil rolled his eyes and followed her out. He walked into his bedroom, noticing Clint's phone on the bedside table, flashing it's notification light.

“Hey Clint?” he called. “I think you missed a call.”

“Shit!” Clint came scrambling into the room, grabbing the phone. “Please be Bucky, please be Bucky!”

“Porn star or ex?” Phil asked, smirking.

“Friend with an unfortunate nickname. Fuck! It's Nat.”

“That a bad thing?”

“It is if Bucky called and said I didn't show up this morning.” He quickly called back, nervously perching on the end of the bed as the call connected. “Natasha it's Clint I'm alive no I haven't been kidnapped no I'm not being forced to say that yes I forgot to text Bucky last night—”

Phil blinked as the giant run on sentence abruptly stopped.

“Yes, I'm at Phil's,” Clint said, warily. “No, Nat, nothing happened. Why? Because it's still early—yes, Nat, I know, yes, yes, would you let me talk—” He rubbed his eyes and lowered the phone. “She wants to come over and pick me up. Is that cool, cause she's probably not going to take no for an answer.”

Nodding, Phil smiled. “It's fine.”

“Yes, it's fine, Nat. The address is—Nat? Hello? Natasha! God damn it, she hung up.”

“Without the address?”

“She'll get it another way.” Sighing, Clint said, “I swear that woman needs to work for the CIA.”

“Who should work for the CIA?” Sharon asked, standing in the doorway.

“My friend,” Clint said.

“I think I like you,” Sharon said, smiling. “Phil, I'm going to take off. Everything seems fine, just like I thought. Email me any reports from Skye's doctors in case anything else happens.”

“Thank you, Sharon.”

“Love you,” she said, quickly kissing him on his cheek. “Oh, and I'll try and have that information for you by the end of the month. It's taking longer to put together than I thought.”

“You are an angel.”

“You know it.”

Phil grinned as he escorted Sharon out.

“Clint? If you hurt either of my babies and I'll destroy you. Understood?”

“Yes ma'am,” Clint saluted.

After she left, Clint turned to Phil. “What information was she talking about?”

“I can't discuss it yet, not until I know more. I don't want to jinx it. But it'll be good if it happens.”

Clint kissed his cheek. “Good. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you that whatever it is works out.”

“Why are you keeping your fingers crossed?” Skye asked, pushing in between them.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Phil said, reaching down to tickle her.

“Ah! No! Clint help!” she cried, giggling uncontrollably.

“What's that? You want to be tickled more?”

Screaming with laughter, she pulled away and ran off.

“Sorry about my friends coming over and crashing your apartment.”

“That's fine. If you want, I can call Pepper and ask if she'd be okay with you dropping by today.”

“I don't want to intrude.”

“You wouldn't be. Tony and Pepper's parties tend to be more like social charity events. Today's is a backyard barbecue in preparation for a charity auction coming up. The more the merrier.”

“I'll say yes if Natasha doesn't drag me away,” he said right as the doorbell rang. “Speak of the devil.”

He opened the door and stared at Nat and Bucky standing in the hall. Nat had on her short leather jacket and combat boots, as well as her tightest pair of jeans. Clint always thought of them as her intimidation pair. Bucky stood slightly behind her right side, looking sheepish. He was wearing a Captain America t-shirt and a hoodie, shoulder length hair pulled back from his face.

“Sorry Clint,” he said as Natasha glared at him.

“Natasha,” Phil said, gently pushing Clint to the side, “why don't you two come in. I promise Clint's virtue is still intact.”

“Nat, I should have called you, I know that. I'm sorry, okay? Please don't punch me in front of the hot guy.”

“Awe, thanks man! I'm flattered,” Bucky said with a grin as Phil snorted.

“Hi, I'm Phil. You must be Bucky.”

“Yup, though my actual name is James. Feel free to never use it.” He shook Phil's hand as he stepped inside. “Man, Clint wasn't kidding. You are pretty hot.”

Phil blushed as Clint yelled “Bucky!”

“Relax, man. He's hot, but he ain't my type.”

“I hate you both so much right now,” Clint muttered as Bucky pulled off his sweater,

Skye poked her head into the hall. “Phil, who was—” She froze when she saw Bucky and Nat.

“Sweetie, you want to come over and say hi to Clint's friends?”

She slowly edged over and hid behind Phil. “Hi,” she softly whispered to Natasha, trying to avoid Bucky.

“Sorry,” Phil said, noticing Bucky's raised eyebrow. “She's a little shy around strangers.”

“Nah, man, it's cool. I can leave if you want.”

“It's fine,” Phil said with a smile as Skye peeked around him.

“Hey kid,” Bucky said, smiling.

“Hi,” she whispered. “I like your shirt.”

“Thanks. My friend got it for me.”

“What happened to your arm?” Skye asked, looking at the prosthetic in place of his left arm.

“Skye, be nice. Remember what we've talked about,” Phil warned, frowning.

“It's fine,” Bucky said, his smile only a little forced. “I'm used to it.” He knelt down on the floor so he could be at eye level with her. “I was in the army and got hurt.”

“So, then, you're like a superhero?”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “No, not really, I'm just....”

“Phil says that people who fight for what they believe in and defend others are real heroes. I think so too.”

Bucky smiled shyly and ducked his head.

“What's your arm made of?”

“Sorry,” Phil said. “Once she gets interested in something, we have a hard time getting her to stop asking questions.”

Bucky waved him off. “A bunch of different things, really. Wires, circuits, some sensors. It's lighter than the first one I had, and it moves better. See?” He flexed the three points on the end, pinching them together. “Couldn't do that with the old one.”

“Can I touch it?” Skye asked, edging out from behind Phil.

“Sure. Doesn't hurt.”

Skye gently touched it, eyes curious. “Do you ever wish it had more fingers?”

“All the time!” Bucky enthused. “But, I'm getting fitted for a new one soon. It's supposed to look more like a real arm.”

“My friend Fitz would like this. He loves electrical things and robots and stuff.”

“Well, when I get my new arm, you'll have to invite me over so I can show it off.”

“Cool! Phil, can we do that? Please?”

“We'll see.”

During this exchange, Clint and Natasha were having what was clearly an argument in sign language. Clint rolled his eyes at Phil, cringing when Natasha smacked his arm.

“I'm sorry that Clint never contacted you, Natasha. It's my fault he made you worry.”

“It's okay, Phil. I wasn't worried. I just think he's an idiot. He needs to hurry up and make you his.”

“Nat!”

“Oh, come on. Sex on the first date in this day and age is not unheard of. Clint, you need to man up and grow a pair.”

He growled at her before turning away.

“I was going to ask Clint if he'd like to come with us to a barbecue our friend's are having today. I just need to call and see if it'll be okay.”

“I'm sure he'd love to,” Natasha said. “What time does it start?”

“Around one. It's a charity thing, partly. The Stark's are old friends of mine and as such I'm usually invited along to any and all functions.”

“Stark?” Bucky asked, standing up. “As in Tony Stark?”

“You know him?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, he's the guy making my new arm. What's this event for?”

“It's to raise money for some of the foster programs they sponsor. It's also serving as a meet and greet for some prospective families. He and Pepper donate a lot and today is designed to give the families they assist a fun time as well as gather items for a silent auction coming up.”

“I painted a picture!” Skye said. “Though it's not very good.”

Phil ruffled her hair and pulled her close. “It was great, pumpkin.”

“What kind of items do they need for the auction?” Natasha asked.

“Well, some of the things were made by the kids, but most of it is being donated by friends of theirs. Paintings, vases, collectibles mostly. I have a signed book I'm donating.”

“I have some art prints that I don't want. Let me call Steve to go get them and you can take them along.”

“That's not necessary—” Phil started to protest before Nat cut him off.

“It's my choice. Besides, it's a worthy cause.”

Phil smiled. “Well then, thank you. Would you like to come along?”

“Think you can wrangle room for all of us?”

“Let me call Pepper. I'll know in five.”

“Call me and let me know. You can get my number from Clint. Bucky, let's head back and gather somethings. If it's a no, I'll drop them off before you leave. Bye Skye. See you later.”

Skye waved to them as they left. Clint had moved back toward the kitchen, sullenly scrubbing at the already clean counters. Phil sent Skye to her room to get ready before pulling out his phone.

“Well, on the plus side, Pepper said it is more than okay for all your friends to show up.”

Clint sighed. “I'm sorry about that. Nat is a little too overprotective sometimes.”

“She loves you,” Phil said, hugging him from behind.

Sighing, Clint turned in his arms and pulled him in tight. “Gods, I'm falling for you way too fast.”

Phil laughed as he leaned in for a kiss. “Come on, let's call Nat and get ready.”

“Yes sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

Clint had grown progressively quieter the longer they drove. Phil glanced toward him occasionally to see if he was okay as Skye chatted away in the background.

“Second thoughts?” Phil asked as he finally exited the freeway.

“Kind of. You didn't say we were going to Malibu.”

“Kind of thought it was implied when I said we were going to the Stark's residence,” Phil stated dryly.

“How'd you meet them anyway?”

“Did some PR stuff for the company years ago, kind of freelance. Worked closely with Pepper. We became good friends. I tolerate Tony most days; he's a good guy, just a little abrasive.”

“That road, Phil!” Skye called from the backseat.

“Good eyes.” Phil made the turn, heading up into the hills. “Hopefully the others won't have a problem finding the turn.”

“Is this a private road?”

“The Starks have money. This only reflects a part of that.” Phil pulled up to a massive gate, rolling down his window to press the intercom.

“Name?”

“Hey Happy, it's Phil.”

“Hey Phil, one second.” The camera over the gate flashed as it scanned over their car before the gates opened. Phil drove on, pulling over and parking near the edge of the driveway behind a dozen other cars. He waved to a man approaching them as they got.

“Happy, how've you been?”

“Same old same old,” the dour man said, frowning as he glanced at Clint.

“Pepper told you we were bringing a guest?”

“She did. Also said you had friends coming separate?”

“We do. Do you need to search us?”

Happy shook his head, waving them forward. “Nah, you're good. I'll get one of the guys to move your car later. Go inside, try and have a good time.”

Skye was already running toward the open front door, calling for Phil to hurry up. Phil nodded his thanks and handed Happy his keys, before pulling Clint close as they approached the stairs.

“Breathe, Clint. I don't need you passing out on me.”

“I'm fine,” Clint mumbled, trying to wipe the sweat off his hands as they stepped inside the entry. Clint froze as he gazed at the floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking a spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean.

“Disgusting, isn't it?” Phil asked him, trying not to laugh at his shocked face.

“Don't insult my house, especially after I'm kind enough to invite you in free of charge,” Tony said as he wandered in from the hall. Pepper rolled her eyes beside him as she came up to bump cheeks with Phil.

“Ignore him, he's just grouchy. Phil, it's great to see you. And you must be Clint. I'm Pepper. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Phil rolled his eyes at Tony. “Missed you too Stark. Pepper, lovely as always. Have you seen my munchkin or did she already disappear?”

“She's with the other kids. We hired a few entertainers to keep them busy.” The sound of childish laughter could be heard coming from the rooms to the right. Pepper hooked her arm into Phil's. “Care for a refreshment? Snack? The food won't be finished for a bit, but we can sit down and get to know each other.” She smiled at Clint. “I'm sure we have a lot to discuss.”

Tony patted Clint on the arm as they followed along. “Try not to fight it. If she senses blood you're done. I'll grab some drinks.”

Licking his lips, Clint came into the room to find Pepper and Phil installed on the couch, already in the middle of an animated conversation. He nervously perched on the edge next to him, sighing in relief as Phil took his hand. Pepper's sharp eyes missed nothing; she pursed her lips for a moment before continuing on as if nothing had happened. Clint was grateful when Tony brought over a glass, raising an eyebrow at their clasped hands.

“So, Clint, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you and Phil known each other?”

Clint glanced nervously at Phil who was frowning at Pepper. “Only a few days. We met through a friend.”

“I see. And you've already met Skye.” She pointedly stared Phil down, head tilted to the side.

Before either could respond, the doorbell rang. “A well timed distraction,” Tony said, hurrying out. “Pepper, don't kill anyone until I get back.”

“That's probably Nat and them. They said they were right behind us.” Clint stood up. “I'll go say hi, leave you two to talk.”

“Clint, don't go...” Phil sighed as he gave a halfhearted smile before rushing after Tony. “What the hell Pepper?”

“Don't you think things are going a little too fast?” she whispered, voice furious. “What are you thinking?”

He shook his head. “It's not like before. This is different.”

“Different! Phil, you've never brought anyone before, not after the last time. And you've never dated anyone while Skye's been around. What's going on?”

Phil's shoulders slumped. “I'm lonely. It's been so long. And Skye loves Clint. We met him at a bookstore; she's never talked to anyone else, you know what she's like. I just feel that this time things will be different.”

Pepper pulled him into a hug. “Phil, you know that I worry about you. So does Tony. I don't want anything to happen to you. Or to Skye. Does Sharon know?”

“She met him this morning. And no, it's not what you think,” Phil said, laughing at the anger that flashed across her face. “We were supposed to have a movie date yesterday, Skye included. She had a bad day and Clint came over. Skye had one of her nightmares and Clint—he was great with her. She feels so comfortable around him, and it was late. All he did was stay over. Nothing more.”

She studied his face. “How much does he know about her past?”

“Most of it.”

“And yours?”

“Not as much.”

She sighed and pulled away. “Well, I'll try and trust your judgment. I just don't want to see you get hurt.”

“Who's getting hurt?” Tony asked as he led Clint and his friends in.

Pepper ignored him and stood up. “It's so nice to meet you. I'm Pepper,” she said, holding out her hand to shake.

“This is Natasha, Steve, and James,” Clint said, moving back to sit by Phil.

“Please call me Bucky.”

Pepper's smile suddenly grew more genuine. “Sgt Barnes, it's an honor to finally meet you. Tony has told me quite a bit about you.”

Bucky blushed and ducked his head. “I, ah—thank you. It's wonderful that your corporation is willing to do something like this. It's a bit overwhelming.”

“It's about time I started giving back more,” Tony muttered from over by the bar.

“Yes, well, feel free to mingle. Dinner will be ready soon. There's entertainment in the kids area, the other parents are either in the lounge or the yard. I thought there was going to be one more?”

“Sam couldn't make it,” Steve said. “He had an emergency pop up with one of his clients.”

“That's a shame,” Pepper said, taking the drinks Tony prepared and handing them out. “Maybe next time.”

Skye came running in, excitedly racing over to Phil. “Phil! There's a petting zoo with alpacas!"

“That's great, sweetie. Make sure you tell Pepper and Tony thank you.” He smiled at her as she spun to grab Pepper in a tight embrace. She caught sight of Bucky, running over to grab his hand.

“Bucky! You have to come meet my friends! Come on!”

He startled, allowing her to pull him along. “Steve, you better be following.”

Steve's forehead wrinkled in confusion as he trailed after them.

Pepper's eyebrows rose up toward her hairline. "Well, that is surprising."

"Told you it was different," Phil said, patting the cushion next to him until Clint joined him. "I was a bit surprised myself."

Natasha wanderer over to join Tony at the bar. "What kind of drinks do you?"

"The nonalcoholic kind. Three years sober," he said with a mixture of surprise and pride. "I've learned to make a mean mocktail. What's your poison?"

Pepper smiled fondly before leaning close to the couple. "So Clint, what do you do for a living?"

"Oh, ah, well…right now I work as a barista. I also teach archery part time, though that's usually more for the summer."

"Really?" She smiled at Phil, eyes bright. "That's quite impressive."

Clint shrugged, looking away in embarrassment. He jumped slightly as Phil took his hand again, giving him a shaky smile.

"Okay, that's disgustingly cute," Pepper said, leaning back in her seat. "Let's just get the formalities out of the way. Clint, what are your intentions with Phil?"

Clint blinked as Phil levered a warning glare at Pepper. "Ah, I mean, this is all still pretty new, so…I guess I'm willing to take this as far as he'd like to. I really like him so far and I'd like to go on more dates."

Phil beamed at him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I feel the same. It's a bit early still, but I really like you too. It's been a long time since I felt like this about anyone."

"Things certainly seem better than they were with Justin. Or Garrett." She frowned. "I really hated Garrett, Phil."

"Yes, you told me," Phil said with a sigh. "I should have listened to you. I'm sorry."

"John Garrett was Phil's last boyfriend before Skye came along. He was very controlling."

"He wasn't that bad most of the time," Phil mumbled, refusing to meet Clint's eyes.

"Phil, he hit you hard enough to split your lip. That's just straight up abuse at that point. You need to stop making excuses for him. At least Hammer was just a narcissistic asshole."

Phil reluctantly looked up as Clint touched his chin. "Did he really hit you?"

Hesitating, he finally nodded. "A few times," Phil admitted, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

Clint's face hardened. "Once was already too many times. No one should ever treat you like that."

"Well, it's in the past," Phil said with a shrug. "He's long gone and you're here now. I think I'm in a much better place."

"You deserve so much better," Clint said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Pepper was smiling. "Well, that answers everything I wanted to know. Phil, I love this one. Bring him by whenever you want."

Laughing, Phil leaned against Clint's side. "What, so you can try to scare him off? I don't think so."

"Phil! I'm hurt! I would never scare him off. Steal him, maybe."

His laughter was edging toward something uncontrollable. Covering his mouth, Phil shook his head. "You already have Tony. That doesn't seem fair."

"We'll trade then." Reaching out, she took his hand. "I'm happy your smiling again. It's been a while."

"Thank you. I know I've been down lately, but I've been trying."

"Having Skye around seems to be helping. Speaking of Skye," Pepper said, barely able to contain her excitement. "Tony and I have been discussing this for a while now, but we've finally made a decision."

Phil's eyes lit up. "You two finally decided to have a baby?"

"No." She shook her head. "There's some complications on that side of things. And since working with adoption agencies and all the fundraising we've been doing, we felt like it would be better to adopt. There's so many children waiting for a loving family that it just made sense."

"Pepper, that's wonderful! That's the best news I've heard lately."

Beside him, Clint found himself smiling as well. "That is good news. There's a lot of kids that need that chance."

She leaned forward, hands resting on her knees. "We wanted to talk to you first, though; get your opinion."

"About what?" 

"We were wondering how you would feel about us adopting Skye?"

Phil's hand clenched around Clint's. Gulping, he started shaking his head, no longer hearing whatever virtues Pepper was spouting about adoption. He felt as if he couldn't breathe, his heart racing in his chest. "No," he managed, sounding strangled.

"Phil?"

"No." His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to catch his breath. "Please. Just... I can't-"

He covered his face with his hands, head dropping toward his knees. "No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Thank you everyone for reading and for all the wonderful comments and questions. They've made my days more often then I can say.
> 
> On a side note, I'm probably going to be slower than before about posting new chapters. The notebook that I kept my notes for the story went missing recently, so I'm having to reconstruct what has already been written. Never fear, it will be completed. I love this ship and have some special things planned for them.
> 
> In the meantime, happy reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This story was one that started as an idea while I was working at my old job. I'd carry a notebook around and add to it little by little. I've wanted to post it for about three years now, but never quite had the courage to do so. I think that time has finally come.


End file.
